Breaking The Walls
by ringaroundtherollins
Summary: AJ Styles is kidnapped by the Wyatt family. Bray wants to convert him to the brethren but AJ is stubborn. Chris Jericho turns to two unlikely sources for help. Can he be saved from his greatest fear? Y2AJ with a guest appearance by Ambreigns. Two-shot. Violence and language present, kids. Angst galore.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I had this Y2AJ story idea in mind when they were still together. I felt like writing it even after the breakup, so I just tweaked it to add more angst. c: Don't worry, there's some fluff, too...enjoy~**_

* * *

Bray Wyatt spooked him, not just because Bray was the most unnerving creep AJ Styles had ever encountered, but because he'd moved into the locker room without a sound. Yet AJ turned the corner—dressed, thankfully—and he jolted in place when he saw Wyatt lingering between the locker bays. Not even by the door, as if he'd just walked in. Like he'd been waiting for AJ.

"Hello, AJ," Wyatt spoke. Even such a pleasant, casual statement came off eerie past his lips.

AJ blinked. "Hi?"

"I never got the chance to welcome you to this place properly."

Tiny hairs on AJ's neck stood rigid. At least he wasn't with his crew, Black Sheep, White Sheep and Sweat Stain. "Thanks…"

"You have a good, solid head on your shoulders, boy. I see that about you. I see that in you. The way you walk, the way you talk…just a look your way's enough to understand what you're here for. What your capabilities are. Now it's time to recognize your purpose."

"Look, Wyatt, I appreciate the"— _cold, uncomfortable, disturbing_ —"welcome, but I've got a match tonight, so."

Bray didn't take his hint to get out of his locker room and leave him be. His dark eyes skimmed over AJ, head to toe. "In every world, whether it is the physical or the…supernatural…man has a need to belong. Man shouldn't be alone. We are called to take care of one another as brothers. You, Styles, you're here, and you are yearning to belong."

AJ hadn't a response except to blink again.

"I am offering you a place to call home, Styles. I am offering you people to call family. My brothers, we will protect you and care for you as our own. It's our calling, and it's yours as well. Do you hear it? Do you feel it?"

"No…?"

"You will," Wyatt stated like a vow, nodding slowly. "It takes time for some."

"Look, I'm not interested in your band, okay?" AJ asked. The longer he stood here, face to face with…well, the New Face of Fear, the deeper his frustration settled, doing away with the panic. "I've seen you work with guys before, but I'm good without. Alright? No thanks."

Bray's eyes didn't narrow nor widen, instead continued to drink AJ in like the sight of him quenched a nasty thirst. AJ was done with him. "So if you'll excuse me?"

"Pardon, then," Wyatt said. He shifted right, giving AJ more access to the door. Like _AJ_ was supposed to leave, not Bray himself.

 _Guess I_ _'_ _ll go hang outside for a while_ , AJ thought, leaving Bray Wyatt behind, no doubt to watch him go and think of him long after.

He had other things to think about.

* * *

 _What went wrong_?

AJ thrust a fist into Chris Jericho's face and the veteran wrestler stumbled backwards, holding his nose. AJ was ready to strike again, channeling vengeance, anger stimulating each attack…

Yet he'd never stop asking that question.

What went wrong?

 _I trusted you, I let you in when I shouldn_ _'_ _t have, you petty son of a bitch, you stabbed me in the back_ …

AJ stormed forward. Jericho ducked under another swing and booted AJ in the chest. It cracked the air from his lungs, and he deliberately faltered to allow a moment to recover his breath. Chris denied this moment and clutched AJ's neck under his arm, holding him there like a serpent constricting its quarry.

AJ remembered when Chris's touch meant security. Now it meant devastation.

"Come on…" Jericho said, shaking AJ. AJ's upper half wilted towards the mat, held up only by Chris's malevolent embrace. The massive crowd bellowed their disapproval, chanting the very name Chris had, for whatever reason, grown to despise. "Just give up…just end it…"

"Screw you!" AJ shouted, driving a fist into Chris's ribcage. He could say a lot worse if he didn't have an unsound reputation to mend with half the WWE fans. He was no longer that man, rather a man who physically ached each time he had to hit Chris Jericho. It hurt to hurt him. AJ hit harder. The festered wound would not heal.

 _Dammit, I still care. Why should I…_ _he doesn_ _'_ _t…probably never did_ …

AJ twisted in place, trying to pry free from Chris's burly arms.

The lights shut off.

A strange blend of instruments, screaming and static cackled through the arena.

AJ felt Chris's grip loosen, and he tugged away, remaining there to avoid tripping. He couldn't see a thing, not even his hair falling over his own eyes. _The hell_ _'_ _s going on…?_

AJ received his answer when the lights ignited the expansive arena again.

He— _they_ , rather; Jericho hadn't gone anywhere—were surrounded on all four sides of the ring by the Wyatt family.

AJ gawked in Bray's direction who leered at him, cheeks plump from an unhealthy smile.

Chris was similarly puzzled, even more so since he hadn't been the one confronted by Bray. _What do these hicks want_?

Bray touched the rim of his Fedora, and that proved to be some sort of signal as his family members invaded the ring. AJ spun around as Luke Harper reached for him, pitching his fists one after the other, but Erick Rowan wrangled AJ into his beefy arms. He elbowed AJ twice in the side of the head to stupefy the southern fighter, to efficiency.

Chris backed against the ropes, viewed the situation from the short distance. He anticipated a twofold attack from these swamp monkeys, but they weren't regarding him at all. All eight eyes were cemented into AJ, the quadruple ambush reserved for him. Rowan kicked both of AJ's knees from behind, driving him to the mat. He wrenched AJ's arms back, pasting him in place while Harper and Braun Strowman took turns battering him with fists and feet, to his chest and gut, to both sides of his jaw, making his neck swivel side to side.

From outside the ring, Bray watched, already delighted with his brothers' work.

Jericho scowled. He didn't like what he saw. "HEY!" he shouted, tearing forward against all logic. "GET OFF OF HIM!"

AJ couldn't register Chris's gracious but imprudent heroism. Black spots shaped in his vision. His arms were so tightly drawn behind his back that he couldn't even lean forward, sink into the pain as the assault endured. Now it was only Harper battering AJ while Strowman turned to Jericho. Chris tried whacking him in the head but it had no impact on the giant. It didn't stop Chris from trying again. Something had to work.

Yet nothing did, not in time, as Strowman suddenly crushed Jericho's windpipe in his weighty hand. Chris choked and spurted against the force, losing air. His hands clinched the top of Strowman's, fingers tearing at the digits asphyxiating him. Too late now, now he was in for it…

But no group assault befell him next. Chris was penalized for his deed with a simple chuck out of the ring.

Strowman's strength was too remarkable; by a single swift swing of the arm, Chris flew far enough to smack against the announce table, the three broadcasters out of their seats, pushing back against the barricade for their own safety. His backbones rattled on impact, and Chris groaned.

"Chris…" AJ tried. His voice was nearly gone, breath depleted, strength crippled. Blood spritzed from his nose, from a gash in his lip. Only now did Bray Wyatt present himself in the ring. He loomed over AJ like a shadow, bearing that same superior look from before. Did he feel like he'd truly won something here? He'd sicced his fellow brutes on him. That was no accomplishment; that was cheap and dirty. AJ could barely make out the bearded fiend before him. Just enough to know he was accountable for this and things weren't going to get better from here.

Strowman joined Bray at his side. Bray tipped his hat again. Another indicator for action. Rowan released AJ only for Strowman to scoop him up next and crush AJ in a mighty "bear-hug". AJ couldn't struggle. His consciousness was quick to wane and the last thing he saw was Chris Jericho rolling off the announce table, looking up in his direction…

Right at him.

 _Pain_ …

AJ fell limp in Strowman's arms.

The crowd was spooked silent.

Bray Wyatt nodded to his boys and the four of them mingled arms to raise AJ up in the air like this was a mosh pit. The family shifted out of the ring, onto the floor. Bray Wyatt hummed on their slow walk down the ramp, " _He_ _'_ _s got the whole world in his hands…He_ _'_ _s got the whole wide world in his hands_ …"

Chris Jericho pushed himself to his knees with his hands, then recovered to a standing position one leg at a time. His back throbbed where it'd struck the table. "What the hell…" he wondered aloud. "What…"

"What just happened?" Michael Cole voiced.

"For one reason or another," JBL stuttered, "the Wyatts came in here and grabbed AJ Styles!"

"What are they going to do with him?" Cole speculated.

Chris wondered the same thing. It was a cold dread crawling through him, toes to head. No. This wasn't right. This was awful…this couldn't happen and yet it had, and now…

The Wyatts had AJ.

Why? What for?

These were not the questions to answer just yet.

Jericho was bitter. All he asked now, all he knew in this overcome state, was he had to get AJ back.

Nobody else had the right to touch him.

* * *

AJ woke to a dingy setting, grime in his nostrils, pain holding him as a secondary captor. He tugged his arms to touch his aching head and found they were immovable. As were his legs, when he tried shifting them to walk. He was sat on the floor, knees bent, tethered by wrists and ankles to the wall behind him.

"Hey!" he screamed. His throat was scorched and the cry forced a harsh cough from his lungs. He wetted his mouth all over with his tongue and swallowed a couple of times before trying again, louder, angrier. " _Hey_! What the hell?"

A few minutes awake gave his eyesight time to return to him. Not that it helped. This place was dark. It held a musty smell. The distress skulked over him that he'd been kidnapped by a band of kooky bumpkins and he hadn't a clue what they were going to do to him.

"BRAY!" AJ hollered. He needed water, badly. His throat was blistering even from those few exclamations. "YOU GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

AJ sat by himself for many minutes. His bondage rattled—ah, chains, excellent. Not the standard freak bondage ropes, but heavy-duty, rust-swabbed metal chains that pinched his sore muscles. Struggling within them only worsened that rawness. What he'd give for freedom and an ice bath right about now…

A door across the… _let_ _'_ _s call it what it is, AJ: a dungeon, you_ _'_ _re in a damn dungeon right now_ …across the dungeon creaked open, piloting in a stream of light that was stomped out by the lofty shadows of the Wyatt family. They filled the room, Bray leading the way as always.

AJ had too many questions but felt prattling would have amused his primary captor. He kept his mouth shut for now.

"Comfortable, pet?" Bray mused.

AJ withheld a snarl. Even soundless, Bray seemed to detect it.

"Don't worry. You're only a pet for now. Soon you'll be just like us. A mighty soldier. A man of spirit and gallantry in the apocalypse."

 _Bray Wyatt is really, truly, literally off his rocker_.

Bray hunched down to meet AJ's glare eye-to-eye. "I wish it hadn't come to this, boy. I wish you were smart enough to know your place. But like I said. These things take time, sometimes. Once you've had a taste of the power, there's not a way in the world it can be taken from you. You'll be blessed by supremacy. You will be a god."

AJ couldn't suppress quiet laughter. "You're out of your mind. I told you. I'm not joining your damn crew."

But Bray just kept grinning, baring his teeth now. Did anything have a negative effect on him? Why was he so damn confident? "I love that about you, AJ. Your resilience is worthy of praise. You have an avid spirit. Good. Beautiful…when used for the right cause. Learn to transform that spirit for the good of your purpose, instead of resisting what I have to offer you. Don't be a fool. This is the right time. You were not in the right place. Until now."

AJ snorted. "I've heard my share of crazy preachers in my day, Wyatt, and lemme tell you, you're the craziest one of all."

His uncanny smile didn't ease up. "I promise that this is what's necessary for you, Styles. You'll find comfort in my family. You'll find protection. And you can guard your brothers in return. But first, you must be transformed. It's like a muscle. You've got to tear it down…in order to build it back up again. Stronger than ever."

"I don't break easy," AJ spat.

"You will. You've built some pretty high walls for yourself, AJ—I admire that—but the transformation process cannot begin until you submit. And you will submit."

"The hell I will."

Bray drew back a step, prompting Luke Harper and Erick Rowan to step forward. Great. AJ knew what was coming. He braced his muscles as best as he could for the second round of thrashing. The bondage made it difficult, especially from this low position on the ground. The men were merciless. New pain erupted atop the old as knuckles and feet slammed into his bare ribs, his cramping stomach, his swelling jaw. AJ wished they'd just knock him out again before Bray barked, "Enough."

Harper and Rowan backed off. AJ couldn't suppress his groans. He coughed again.

"Wh—what, you're…you're just gonna kick the crap out of me till I agree to join ya?" AJ asked between desperate gasps for air. Oxygen was scarce in this place. He inhaled mostly dust now, dust and perspiration. "That's pretty desperate, Bray. Hate to break it to you, but I've handled pain worse than this."

"Oh, I know you have," Wyatt whispered. "You've got a powerful embodiment about you as well, Styles. All the more reason to make you mine."

AJ groaned again, sagging his head, freeing his eyes from the sight of Bray Wyatt. _He_ _'_ _s fucking nuts_ …

"I have the perfect way you break you, AJ. I'm a man of my word. You'll understand the truth. You need me. And I need you."

"Go…to…hell."

Five stout fingers gently pushed AJ's hair from his forehead, then touched the sweating skin. The feeling was chilling, more chilling than AJ was expecting, and he drew his head up and back, but Bray kept his hand on AJ.

"You'll understand the truth," Bray spoke again, soft.

AJ gasped. This sensation was disturbing. Nothing like he'd ever felt before. As though literal darkness was a liquescent, and his head was absorbing it through Bray's touch. His muscles felt iced over. He was aghast, fearful like a very young child, wanting to bolt, wanting to scream, shake loose this delirium…fear, devouring him like acidic rainfall…was Bray Wyatt somehow _transferring_ this to him? What kind of supernatural creation was he?

AJ shouted out. Wrenched his head side to side, unable to pull free from this touch. This was sheer misery.

"GET OFF ME!"

At this, Bray removed his hand. AJ threw his head back, nearly smacking it on the wall and knocking himself out. What the hell had that been? He'd been scared shitless, but of what? Getting touched by Bray Wyatt? No, it—whatever _it_ had been—had gripped him like a demonic possession, throttling him. He'd been afraid of nothing, but it had been real, true terror of naught.

Just fear. Fear alone, like he'd never felt before.

Some of it endured. The icy sensation was gone, as was most of the power behind it, but it left behind a fraction of what he'd undergone. A slight chill in his bones. Minor panic of things to come.

"What did you do to me?" AJ questioned.

"I gave you sensitivity, if you will. Sensitivity of the real world. To prove to you why you need me. Normal people experience fear. We're all human in that way. Me? I am the face of fear. I can show you terror like you wouldn't believe. And I will. I'm _consecrating_ you with a heightened reaction to things you might find mild, harmless…so you'll know the truth of what you thought you knew. Things that didn't frighten you before will frighten you now. Things that frightened you before…it will be a living, walking nightmare, in your realm."

AJ tried to make sense of his vague, evangelical-style rambling. "You're…you're actually… _installing_ fear in me?" Supernatural, alright.

"Not installing. You are not a machine, AJ. I'm simply blessing you with a more…open mind, if you will. So you can see things as they truly are. I'm opening your eyes. And once your eyes are open…you will know just how badly you need us. You will submit, and I will restore in you a spirit like ours. Your strength will be mine. Your soul will be mine."

"You're a fuckin' sadist," AJ snarled through his teeth, but there was less anger there, less hostility he wanted to use, to seem stronger than he truly was. Now he sounded ready to burst into tears.

Bray Wyatt stood up. "Treat him."

AJ's eyes stretched wide as Luke Harper and Erick Rowan approached him again. Now they were even more terrifying. He was disconcerted with just how much damage they could do to him.

Whatever Bray had done to him, it was working.

He was afraid.


	2. Chapter 2

"Where is he!?"

Chris Jericho tore the backstage area apart looking for the Wyatts. He shoved open every door in sight, hunted through each locker room, each shower area. Cut around every corner, peered down every corridor. Even on the outside he made a brisk walk, passing by fans who wanted autographs and high-fives and selfies. He had no time for them. He had to find the Wyatts.

But they were gone. Disappeared into the abyss, it seemed, like ghosts.

"Dammit," Chris muttered, jaw locked. How dare these assholes. How _dare_ they. What did they want with AJ, huh? What had he ever done to them? He didn't deserve that attack.

AJ might have been a cocky, prideful, attention-stealing punk but he didn't deserve to suffer like that. Especially for no reason.

Chris made his third trip around the entire arena before giving up. No, wrong choice of words—changing his strategy. He'd never give up on this search. He'd give the Wyatts hell for hurting his AJ.

His…

AJ. Just AJ.

He had another idea. He wasn't thrilled about it, but this might have been his only chance at tracking these buffoons down.

Chris returned to the locker room. It was more crowded now, yet of course without the Wyatts and AJ. Instead he found just who he was looking for across the floor. Two men very familiar with the Wyatts' antics.

"Dean," Chris said, huffing. He was exhausted from his run. "Roman. Hey."

Neither superstar looked terribly thrilled to see him. Chris supposed he couldn't blame them, after what had happened over the summer.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Did you see what happened?" Chris jerked a thumb towards the door. "Out there? Just now?"

"You had a match with AJ," Roman stated. "Right?"

"The Wyatts…they came in in the middle of it…threw me aside and knocked AJ out, took him away…"

"Of course they did," Roman soughed. It shouldn't have surprised him but Chris would have appreciated a little more sympathy.

"I need your help," he said through clinched teeth. "I have to find them. I need to get AJ back."

"Thought you guys weren't a thing anymore," Dean mocked.

Chris had a short fuse. "I know what I said! I'm not the asshole here, alright? I'm not the bad guy. I've been petty, sure, and I've screwed up, but…" He scraped a hand over his sweating face. He didn't have to explain himself…did he? Really? "Look, I don't have time to wonder what this means for Y2AJ…"

"Oh, I think we already know what it means."

Chris would have smacked Dean to the floor if he wasn't desperate. He tried a change of approach. "Ambrose. Reigns. Please. I'm…I'm begging you. Please." Pleading for help was an insult to such a proud man but the sooner he got them on board, the sooner AJ could be saved. "I can't…I _won't_ let them hurt him. Bray Wyatt's hurt you both before and I know the two of you didn't stand for it when it was each other. Feel me. Help a guy out. Please."

Dean and Roman stared one another down. Chris had hit something, he was sure of it, bringing up the past. Dean and Roman would kill for each other. And if Chris had to kill for AJ, so be it.

 _I'm not a bad guy. I'm just…I'm just me_.

"Did you check your phone yet?" Dean asked.

"I—what?" Chris asked. "Check my phone?"

"Yeah. See if Wyatt hasn't told you himself where he's stashing AJ."

"Why would he…"

"Bray Wyatt loves to play mind games," Roman said, understanding where his partner was going. "Trust me. We know of everyone. If he just wanted AJ, he'd tuck himself into a dark corner and make himself unknown. If he wanted you, he figures the best way to get your attention is nabbing Styles."

"Me? Why would he want me? I haven't done anything to him." _Recently, anyway_.

"Why would he want AJ?" Dean raised, shrugging his shoulders with extended hands. "We don't know. We don't know what the hell's going through his head. Nobody ever does, I don't think, ever. But check your phone. That's step one. If you haven't heard from him, then it's suddenly more urgent. And we'll find a way to track him down."

"Why would that make it more urgent?" Chris was already on the way to his locker, where he'd left all his belongings on his wild search for AJ. His phone was in his duffle bag.

"Because if he's after you, he's not gonna waste AJ yet. There's still time. Dead leverage ain't very effective, y'know?" Roman asked. "And if he's _not_ after you…"

Chris didn't want to think on it. He drew his phone from the front pocket.

"Son of a bitch," he said at the screen.

"'You have one new message'?" Dean voiced.

Chris showed them the single message in his inbox. A photo of AJ, shackled to a dark brick wall, slugged over like he was deep in slumber…or… _no, no, no, he's not, he can't be, he isn't_ …

"Shit, what an asshole," Dean said.

"My God…" Roman breathed.

Urgent was right.

Beneath the daunting photo was an address and a single line of text.

ARE YOU OVER IT?

Chris looked helplessly at Roman, then Dean. They were looking at each other again. Chris could see a plan etching in their eyes.

"What do you think, Ro?"

"I think it's Wyatt season," Roman answered.

* * *

AJ screamed.

Bray Wyatt's touch was so cold it burned his skin like fire. No amount of quaking, wrenching or begging could get Wyatt nor his paranormal ability to cease. Thrice now had Bray tortured him this way, by simply by pressing his palm to AJ's forehead. AJ could literally feel the fear, the darkness, amplifying him. Drowning him.

" _Please_!" AJ howled. " _Stop_! You son of a bitch, _stop_!"

"Submit," Bray coerced.

"NO!" AJ might have been terrorized to bits and pieces but he wasn't an idiot. He didn't want to join the Wyatts. He wouldn't. "N-NO! NEVER! I _WON'T_!"

"You sound so sure of yourself," Bray mocked.

He pulled his hand away from AJ, leaving him to twitch and jerk in his bondage. His breathing quickened, sharpened like he was hyperventilating.

"Test him," Bray said. "Treat him", AJ learned, meant a beating. "Test him" meant…

"Boo!" Luke Harper cried, hands in the air. It made AJ flinch. He'd known it was coming and he still cringed.

"This is wonderful," Bray praised himself. "This is truly a masterpiece. You know what it's like to live in constant fear. Even your own thoughts are tormenting you, aren't they? Considering where you are, who you're with, all that's happening. It's eating you up. It's eating you alive. You're screaming. You're suffering."

AJ wouldn't deny any of those accusations. Even closing his eyes produced images far scarier than what he was seeing in this room. He couldn't shut it out. Monsters in the closet creeping up to snatch him. Demons breaking free from hell. His own thoughts. The men before him.

"Don't you want it to stop?"

"FUCK YOU!" AJ shrieked. He quaked like a leaf caught in a breeze but he hadn't cried. He refused to cry; he didn't care how much fear Bray pumped into him.

"Very good…I'd get upset at your opposition, but it's truly impressing me." Bray slipped a hand underneath AJ's chin, elevating his head. "But you know you can't take much more of this."

"Fuck you." It was all he had going for him. His defiance. He didn't care what Bray said: his resistance was infuriating. Bray was pissed that he wouldn't "submit." The praises were just a guise.

AJ dipped his head back, leaning it against the wall, using gravity to keep his eyes dry, tears held back. Nope. No tears. No crying. Absolutely not. He was weakened but he was not done fighting. How long would he have to fight, though? How long until someone noticed he was gone…?

His abduction had been witnessed by millions. Surely _someone_ had taken note, set to work on getting him the hell out of here…

Bray Wyatt stood up. Backed off. AJ knew what was coming before he spoke the words: "Treat him."

" _Wyatt family_."

The familiar voice, even the words spoken in an accustomed monotonous chant, gave AJ chills. He couldn't even be _relieved_ to hear Chris Jericho's voice. He was incapable of feeling nothing but fear. Maybe it was in his head. Maybe he was going nuts.

" _Wyatt family, Wyatt family, Wyatt family, Wyatt family_ …"

Nope. Definitely real.

Bray Wyatt stared at the door, then peered at his brothers.

"CHRIS!" AJ wailed. "CHRIS! IN HERE! GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

"That's right," Bray encouraged, soft-spoken. "Call him forth…"

AJ shut his mouth. Bray _wanted_ Chris to find his way in here?

Was…was he _expecting_ Chris?

He sure didn't look surprised by that voice…

AJ gasped, realizing what was going on. "WAIT, NO! CHRIS! DON'T, IT'S A—"

A colossal kick from the outside nearly brought the door off its hinges. AJ wasn't even sure it was locked. They might as well have opened it for him if this was all just a snare…

Chris Jericho slipped through the opening, positioning himself front and center. His hands were fists at his sides. He stared each of the Wyatts down, down, down.

Maybe the Wyatts were expecting Chris, but AJ sure hadn't.

What was he doing here?

"I guess that's a no," Bray Wyatt said, speaking an answer to a question Chris knew but AJ didn't. "Not even a little."

"Piss off, Bray," Chris barked. "I hear you, alright? I got your message, and I'm here to stop you."

"Stop me?" Bray laughed. "My boy, the night has just begun."

"You have me, alright? Isn't that what you wanted? Had to use AJ to get me into an ambush? It's so trite. But it worked, okay? It worked. So just let AJ go, and you can have me." He lifted two hands in faux defense. He was intentionally unarmed. Nothing to worry about. Roman and Dean were on this case. They were safe. AJ was safe.

AJ was also twitching visibly, and Chris picked up on it. Narrowing his eyes, he said, "Did you drug him?"

Bray's face kindled in the dark. "No, no I didn't…he's just _afraid_ of what I might do to you."

AJ's convulsions only worsened when Bray stepped closer to Chris.

"Bray—"

Harper, Rowan, and Strowman joined their leader in a half-circle around Chris. This was to be expected. Chris was willing to risk a little pain to pull this rescue plan off.

"Did you come alone?" Bray asked.

"Yes," Chris said firmly. Roman and Dean were on their way. They'd planned to come separate to decrease the chances of getting caught. Chris had to make sure AJ was safe before executing a rescue mission. "Your message didn't exactly read 'open invite.'"

Bray looked to Strowman. "Check the perimeter. Make sure we don't have company."

Wordlessly, Strowman nodded, and he disappeared from the basement-turned-dungeon. _He's a sick puppy_ , Chris thought.

Rowan and Harper watched Chris while Bray turned to face AJ. "Remember what I said about non-fears becoming fears…fears becoming living nightmares, pet? Let's see what happens when I drag your worst fear of _all_ out to play…"

Chris had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but he hadn't an idea of anything when Rowan slugged him in the stomach. He wrestled against the two of them until they had him against the wall, pinning him, striking him down. He lost momentum when Harper pinned his elbows to the bricks and Rowan shot his knuckles into Chris's abdomen so hard, so many times, he thought he might hurl.

"Get away from him!" AJ screamed, flaying in the restraints. "Leave him _alone_! Do you hear me!? I said _leave him alone_!"

This wasn't so bad…it hurt, sure, but Chris could take it, he could bear…it was AJ's full-blown panic that freaked him out. He'd lost his cool like he'd never had it to start. Why was he so afraid?

What the hell had Bray done to him?

Unless…watching Chris get beaten like this truly _was_ his greatest fear…

Harper released his grip on Chris, and he slumped to the floor, landing on his hands. Bray Wyatt pinched his hair between his fingers and forced his head up, his angered gaze deep into Bray's.

"You think this was all for your benefit, Jericho?" Bray asked. His breath on Chris's neck made him grimace. "You think I give a damn about you? That this is all about _you_? You really are a selfish bastard, aren't you?"

Chris growled.

Bray ambled towards the chained AJ. Harper and Rowan shoved Chris forward, nearly making him crawl until he was only feet away from his partner. His arms were held back as AJ's had been much earlier. AJ's face was void of color. His eyes were twice their normal… _beautiful_ …size out of their sockets. He heaved against his chains.

"Bray…"

Chris closed his eyes at the sound of a switchblade popping out, shedding the air in its opening. _Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I wasn't ready for this…anytime now, Dean, Roman, come on_ … He hoped to God they hadn't been caught by Strowman.

"No!" AJ hollered.

"This is all about you, AJ," Bray spoke. "Your friend Jericho has helped me out tremendously tonight."

 _Great. If I hadn't shown up, AJ would be okay. More okay, if I wasn't here. The pawn wasn't him: the pawn was me_.

Chris opened his eyes. "You don't do anything they tell you, you hear me, Styles?" he asked. "I don't care what they want…I don't care what they do to me, as long as they—"

Bray pressed the blade to his neck with just enough pressure to break the skin. Chris interrupted himself with a low cry of pain, squeezing his eyes shut. A drop of blood surged from the nick, skimming down his skin.

AJ lost his mind…once more, acting as though he never had it in the first place. He thrashed madly in the chains, howling even louder than Chris. " _Stop_! Just _stop it_! _Don't you touch him_!"

"You want it to stop?" Bray asked lightly. "You know what I want, AJ…"

He touched the blade to Chris's jugular. "Shall I make him my sacrifice?"

" _No_! Okay, okay, okay, I'll do it, I'll do it, just _stop_. Please." AJ was trembling, voice breaking. Salty tears skated from his eyes down both bruised cheeks now. "Please."

"You can't take it anymore?"

AJ shook his head violently. "No. No, I can't."

"Why not?"

AJ sniveled, not answering, watching Chris vulnerably. Chris watched back, biting his lip. _I'm sorry I did this to you_.

"I said…" Bray grabbed Chris's head, yanked it back so his bare neck was completely exposed, and situated the knife as though he'd drag it straight across the throat.

AJ broke. "BECAUSE I LOVE HIM, OKAY? _Alright_!? Because I love him." His eyes were glazed in a fine layer of moisture. He couldn't take them off Chris. This mien on him hurt Chris more than the knife ever could. "Fuck you, Bray. Let him go and I'll do it."

Chris swallowed hard. His own tears were pricking at the corners of his eyes. _What did he just say_ …

"Ah…yes," Bray groaned, like he was turned on by AJ's defeat. "That's my pet. That's a good boy, Styles." Fear can be so magnificent sometimes. It brings about honesty." He turned toward his partners. "Luke. Go get the key. We have to do this right. Erick, you watch him, now." He waved at Chris. "Make sure he doesn't go anywhere."

Erick bobbed his head. Luke crossed the floor towards the door, leaving Chris under Erick's watch.

"What are you doing?" Chris demanded. "What the hell are you doing to him?"

AJ's head drooped so Chris could no longer see his face. This was making him nervous. _Where in the hell are you guys…_!?

Luke pulled the door open.

Dean Ambrose stood there. Brandishing Mick Foley's gift to him from the other night, Barbie herself.

"Hey there."

Dean smashed the bat into the side of Luke's skull. He was out before his body hit the floor.

"Christ!" Rowan roared. He released Jericho in his surprise, but Chris didn't get too far. Bray Wyatt roped him into a hold and brandished his knife again.

"Drop it," he barked. "Or I cut his throat."

But Dean merely jutted his bottom lip out. "Hmm. Tiny-ass little pocketknife, or big-ass baseball bat covered in barbed wire? Rock, paper, scissors…"

Dean flung the bat at Bray. He dropped Jericho, lifting an arm to shield himself. The bat struck his arm, and he yelped. Chris took advantage and sprung on him, chopping blow after blow after blow into Bray. " _Take this, you son of a bitch_!" he shouted.

Rowan tried to come to Bray's aid but Dean was on him in a second. He knocked Rowan into the wall, just beside AJ, drilling his elbow into Rowan's gut, making his fist collide with his nose. He took advantage of Rowan's stupefaction and, for the hell of it, Dirty Deeds'd him to the floor. His head smacked the hard floor on impact. He was out.

Chris and Bray grappled on. Dean recovered his baseball bat and aimed carefully so not to injure Chris. He jabbed the end of the bat into Bray's spine, and as Bray rolled onto his back, Dean jammed the end into his forehead. The goal was to incapacitate, not to kill, as badly as he wanted to some days…

Bray Wyatt was out.

Dean held Chris to his feet with the arm not clutching Barbie.

"Where's Roman?" Chris asked.

As if on cue, Roman shouted from upstairs, followed by a series of crashes and thumps as Braun Strowman's body toppled down the wooden steps. He hit the bottom floor with a disgusting _thud_. He made the mistake of informing Dean he was still conscious by shifting in place, trying to push up to his feet.

Dean waltzed over, whistling, and bopped Strowman just once in the head. Once was enough.

"Yeah, fucker," Dean laughed.

"Looking for this?" Roman asked, upholding a thick silver key. "Found it on the table upstairs. Figured it was _for_ something."

Chris took the key from him. "Thanks." He trotted over to AJ, who hadn't spoken nor moved since the onslaught began. "AJ? Hey, you with me?"

Chris lifted AJ's head, but his eyes were shut as if sewn that way. His head slumped down again as Chris let it go.

"Oh, fuck…"

Chris fumbled to unlock AJ's chains. He had to get AJ the hell out of here. The chains hit the floor nosily, and Chris dropped the key and scooped the wilted AJ into his arms. "Come on, let's get the hell out of here…"

"Right," Dean said, twirling the bat in the air. "Unless anyone's up for nine innings?"

Roman confiscated the weapon. A wise decision. "We're done with this for now."

Chris carried AJ upstairs and out of the shabby house, Roman and Dean following behind. He made it just down the street, where Roman and Dean had stashed their rental car, when he collapsed to his knees in the middle of the desolate road. This neighborhood was practically barren, especially this late at night; nearly early in the morning. He couldn't go any further until he knew AJ was alright.

"Chris," Dean said.

"AJ? AJ, hey, can you hear me?" Chris shook him lightly. No response. He put his ear against AJ's chest. Through his jacket and tight t-shirt, he could perceive a heartbeat. Slow, but there. "AJ. AJ!"

AJ lifted his head slightly, whimpering. Chris supported his cranium in the bend of his arm. "AJ. Please. Wake up. Come on, I've got you…you're safe…"

"Mm—mm…"

"Huh?" Chris gasped. "What was that, AJ?"

"I'm…I'm so scared. I'm…I'm so…" He was quaking again. Chris tightened his grip on him.

"There's nothing to be afraid of anymore, AJ." He looked up at Roman and Dean like they could offer an explanation. "Bray did something to him. I don't know what…"

"Bray's a fucked-up whippersnapper," Dean said. "He might have tried one of his ritual things…"

"Fuck. I hate that guy…what the hell did he do to you, AJ…"

Roman squatted beside Chris. He touched the back of his hand to AJ's forehead. "He's freezing," Roman noted. "Whatever Bray did, it had some serious impact, physically and mentally."

Chris situated AJ atop his legs so he could strip from his jacket without dropping AJ to the street. He swathed AJ in the soft material, then enveloped him in his arms once more. "AJ, listen to me. You're safe. You're warm. I've got you. And I'm not leaving you again. You understand me? I'm sorry I was such a…a…well, a Y2-jackass. I got jealous and stupid. It was so wrong of me…I'm sorry, AJ, God, I'm sorry…" Chris pressed his hand behind AJ's neck and held him close to his own face.

"Scared…" AJ breathed, calmer.

Was this working?

"He's got all this fear in him, from whatever happened," Roman said. "But it's starting to go. Look, he's not shaking as badly."

"You gotta drive out the fear, man, that's it," Dean said, making a fist and punching his other hand.

"How the hell do I do that?"

"You seem to know. I think you know."

"Drive it out…with…what, _love_?" Chris asked, seeming appalled at the idea. "This isn't some Snow White shit out here."

"Worth a shot, if you want to save him," Roman stated. He'd never sounded more sincere in his life. "My love for Dean's gotten me both into and out of some pretty nasty shit."

"It's true," Dean affirmed. "I can attest."

 _This is so messed up_ … But Chris watched AJ "asleep" in his arms and sighed. _Worth a shot. Guess he's right_.

"AJ, you told Bray down there that you loved me…" he hummed. He used his thumb to push hair from AJ's damaged face. Still beautiful. So beautiful. "I want you to know, I _need_ you to know…that God, AJ, man, I love you, too. Never stopped. Even when I was being a jackass, I still loved you. I can't. I can't lose you."

Chris pretended Dean and Roman weren't watching for the results. Nothing mattered in his world now except AJ Styles.

And saving him.

Chris moved AJ's head so their faces were fronting one another closely. He filled the space between them, heart drubbing against his ribcage, pressing his lips into AJ's.

What started as a stony, unreciprocated kiss blossomed into desire as Chris felt AJ kiss him back. It had worked, it _was_ working, yet Chris didn't stop. He didn't want to. He lifted AJ to a sitting position without breaking romantic form, holding AJ's back so he wouldn't fall again. AJ's breath was warm on him. Chris opened his eyes, blissful to see AJ's as well, color restored to them.

He could only manage half a smile. "Fuck, it hurts…"

"What hurts?"

"Everything…"

"We gotta get you to a hospital," Dean said. "You too, Jericho. You're starting to bleed again, on your neck there."

Chris touched a finger to his wound and winced at the sting. It was nothing compared to AJ's physical suffering. "Are you alright?" He pulled his hands off AJ's back and helped him to his feet.

"I'm fine…but, damn, that was awful. It was like, suddenly I was afraid of literally everything. Even tiny, irrelevant shit like the _dark_ and the air. He did some weird shit to me…"

"Are you still feeling it?"

"Yeah. A little. But it's not as bad. Getting away from him helped…getting _you_ away from him helped…"

AJ took Chris's hand in a hold, their fingers braiding. "Don't ever let me see you like that again."

"Sure, 'cause that was all my doing."

AJ grinned. This smile was full, refurbished as his eyes. His spirit. It was getting there. Step by step.

"Oh, and you're welcome for saving you," Dean said. "Sure, it was our pleasure."

AJ chuckled. "Yeah. Thanks, Roman. Dean."

"I second that. I couldn't have done it without you guys," Chris said.

"Dean meant it. Our pleasure."

"Everybody gets one save from Barbie," Dean said, gesturing to Barbie, still in Roman's hand. Was he ever proud of that weapon. Proud of himself for obtaining it. "Now hospital. Let's go."

Chris snaked an arm around AJ's waist on the walk to the car. "I love you, AJ," he whispered past thick locks of brown hair.

"I love you, Chris," AJ stated, leaning his impaired body on Jericho, yet feeling better than he had all evening. "And as far as I'm concerned, Y2AJ is _still_ a thing."


End file.
